


there's a horse loose in the museum

by MaliciousVegetarian



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A deep and profound lack of knowledge about how museums work, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Museums, Service Mini Horse Roach, Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian
Summary: Jaskier glances over his shoulder at the offending - actually, he assumed he was a security guard due to general level of musculature, but that might be wrong. His uniform doesn’t appear to be very security guard-y. But then again, maybe that’s what they’re going for these days. Maybe you’re not supposed to know they’re security guards until they’re tossing you out of the museum. Jaskier has, somewhat amazingly, never been kicked out of a museum before. He really doesn’t need to change that today.Or, Jaskier is a grad student, Geralt is a security guard, Roach is the best, and your author has too many feelings about the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	there's a horse loose in the museum

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 9/29/2020 - This is a reupload of a previously posted fic. I deleted all my witcher fic during a Bad Brain Time, and am slowly replacing things.
> 
> Hi this is ridiculous and short and also completely unedited, and also not what I'm supposed to be posting, but I wanted to put it up anyways cause I kind of love it. Do not come here looking for accurate knowledge of how museums operate. Do come here for a pretentious amount of Maryland and DC details despite the fact that I'm from Pennsylvania.
> 
> There is a high chance I'll go back and edit this, maybe make it longer, at some point, so look for that I guess

Jaskier’s fucking fuming.

Here he was, minding his own business, taking notes on his hand held recorder, and some asshole security guard had the nerve to come up to him and tell him that what he had just said was wrong. Which it wasn’t. Jaskier knows the dates of the earliest human instruments, could recite them in his sleep, has recited them in his sleep according to his roommates. It’s not his fault some dickhead couldn’t be bothered to listen properly.

Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe the guy’s hard of hearing. But Jaskier can’t help but assume that if you know that about yourself, you wouldn’t go around correcting innocent graduate students over one date. Of course, no one has ever called Jaskier innocent in his life, but the point still stands.

The guy did have a service horse with him. Jaskier didn’t think those actually, like, existed. He thought they were just things you heard about when someone took one on the subway. Does this guy take his on the subway? It’s a cute horse. (It’s a cute guy, if he’s being honest with himself.)

No, he has to stop. He is being righteously pissed, and he won’t let that be interrupted by objective hotness.

He glances over his shoulder at the offending - actually, he assumed he was a security guard due to general level of musculature, but that might be wrong. His uniform doesn’t appear to be very security guard-y. But then again, maybe that’s what they’re going for these days. Maybe you’re not supposed to know they’re security guards until they’re tossing you out of the museum. Jaskier has, somewhat amazingly, never been kicked out of a museum before. He really doesn’t need to change that today.

He turns back to the display of neolithic flutes and tries to concentrate. However concentration isn’t one of his better skills, except when it is and he can’t stop focusing on something. Right now, his brain has locked onto Potential Security Guard, and it will not be distracted by things as trivial as his dissertation subject.

He allows himself another glance, and this time he realizes that the horse (pony? He’s pretty sure if they’re that small they’re either a pony or a baby, but he doubts they’d let a baby horse be a service animal. Also, despite the copious amounts of horse documentaries he watched as a child, he can’t for the life of him remember what a baby horse is called.) Whatever it is, it’s wearing shoes. And - he looks again, quickly - the shoes have dinosaurs on them. Fuck, but that’s cute. Jaskier wishes he had shoes with dinosaurs on them. If he wasn’t completely broke he’d find some online.

He could really use new shoes if he’s going to be traipsing around the US capital for the next few months. True, he’ll be traipsing to one place and then back, but it’s still way too much walking. The closest metro to Natural History is Archives, which requires a three block walk to Natural History. He may be over exaggerating, but he doesn’t really care. Also, he’s not planning on eating at the museum cafeteria every day he’s here.

The exhibit is The Experience of Sound, which is the most museum exhibit name Jaskier has maybe ever heard of. What it actually is is an exhibit on early human music making, going up to CE. How exactly he ended up deeply interested in paleolithic music is not all that clear, but he blames it on his parents, for bringing him to the reconstruction of Lascaux caves when he was four. Honestly, who does that?

Well, he’s here now, old enough to mostly not mind that his main communication with them is his weekly text conversation with his mom, and occasional calls where they try to get him to go to their beach house with them. Or, as his mother insists on calling it, the shore. Jaskier loves the beach, but he hates their stupidly large beach house, and if he never goes on a motorized boat again it’ll be too soon.

He did quite enjoy his sailing lessons, though.

Anyways.

He didn’t really go to Natural History as a child. His parents tended to look down on museums that didn’t have gallery in the title, and his private school pretty much hit each museum one time and then was done with field trips, ever.

But now that he’s coming here for research, he kind of loves it. It’s wide open, and there’s a museum-y smell, probably from the cleaner they use but who cares about that, and he’s very fond of the elephant at the entrance. There’s something about standing in the main room on the entrance floor, looking up, that fills him with wonder. It’s sort of circular, and you can see straight up to the ceiling, and you get all the balconies and columns that make up the other floors.

Jaskier may have spent his first few days of research exploring the museum as a whole. No one has to know.

He’s gotten very distracted from the situation at hand. When he glances over his shoulder again, one last time, Potential Security Guard is gone, and his little horse too.

The slow realization that he’s been rude is not a new feeling to Jaskier. He has a tendency to jump to assumptions, even though he’s actually pretty good at people. His guidance counselors were always pretty impressed that he didn’t get bullied, which is really sad if you think about it too long. But still, it’s not unusual for him to end an interaction and think, oh. I was the asshole.

This time, he maintains that Potential Security Guard was more of an asshole, but Jaskier definitely didn’t improve the situation. So he resolves to apologize, if he ever sees him again. He’s really good at apologies.

He leaves the museum at closing time, walks across the Mall to Archives, and takes the two escalators down to the platform, swiping his Smartrip card as he goes without actually checking how much money is on it. This time, it works.

The ceiling of the station always makes Jaskier feel like he’s in some kind of massive underground beehive. A stone one, for stone bees. He loves it, secretly, because the metro isn’t the sort of thing you’re supposed to love as far as he’s concerned.

On the way home, he takes more notes on his recorder, cheerfully ignoring anyone who gives him weird looks. His mind keeps drifting back to Potential Security Guard, which is very dumb of it and Jaskier would like it to stop, thanks. He’s a very busy person with a real grown-up adult life and he doesn’t have time to moon over guys he spoke to once at a museum.

Home is a small apartment in a complex near the university. As a graduate student, Jaskier takes pride in living off campus. He walks home from the station and mutters angrily to himself that the Purple Line won’t be finished by the time he graduates, because that would be so nice, even if it’s definitely going to crush a drunk freshman in a month tops.

His roommates are out, because Nolan basically lives at his girlfriends’ and Fred has a paper due and hasn’t left McKeldin in three days. Jaskier sends him a quick text to remind him to rub Testudo’s nose for good luck, because he knows it drives Fred crazy.

Walking into an empty dark apartment is fine. Jaskier is good at being on his own. Really, he is. He’s been alone a lot, and he knows how it works. He in no way craves human interaction.

I think the lady doth protest too much, he thinks to himself as he turns on the kitchen light. He’s too frustrated to cook, so he eats leftover mac and cheese right out of the container and retreats to his room to study.


End file.
